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Where 


Lie  the 
Oregons 


A 

SOUVENIR 
OF  PORTLAND’S 
1908 
ROSE 

CARNIVAL 


Copyright  Applied  for. 


FRED  LOCKLEY 

RARE  WESTERN  BOOKS 

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CMixARV 

UNIVERSITY"  Of  IUINOH 

UABANA 


WHERE  LIE  THE  OREGONS 


BY 


D.  H.  HAWKINS 


PORTLAND’S 

ROSE-CARNIVAL 

SOUVENIR 


An  Address  Descriptive  cf  Oregon’s  Resources  end  Marvelous  Granduer 

PATENT  APPLIED  FOR 


PjHl  ISf't  AS; 

HULL  PRINTING  COMPANY 

MEDFORD,  OREGON 


I 


* 


Where  Lie  The  Oregons 


Where  lie  the  Oregons  are  lakes  and  plains,  ^ 
And  sliding  rivers,  and  deep  murm|mg  woods, 
With  lure  of  endless  aisles  where  mayEeTieard 
The  lyrico-dramatic  play  of  capticious  winds, 

The  inter-weaving  of  melodic  brands; 

And  the  weird,  soft  piping  of  the  ancient  pines 
Beneath  whose  bending  boughs  one  time  was  heard 
The  chant  of  savage  choirs  in  sable  dress: 

The  mournful  music  of  the  wood-folk  gone, 

Thro  length  of  suns,  down  thro  the  ebon  gates 
That  swing  on  hidden  hinges  into  paths 
Star  fringed  and  lifted  into  the  glory  hills! 

© © © 

Where  lie  the  Oregons  the  purple  mountains 
Are  pearly-footed  in  the  morning  light, — 

What  summer  noons,  what  orange  moons  by  night! 
What  dim  rare  distances  of  lifting  scene, 

Of  huge  proportioned  imperial  forest  kingdoms; 

Of  wooning  shades  and  incomparable  color-views! 
What  other  folk  shall  boa£t  such  wondrous  scene 
Of  sea  and  land  and  ardent  bending  sky? 

What  muse  shall  sing  for  us  these  raptureing  views 
Of  blooming  forests  and  entrancing  vales? 

Here  comes  a youth  whose  bearing  verbs  of  kings 
Such  as  did  once  in  great 


2 


WHERE  LIE  THE  OREGONS 


Or,  in  Argentium  the  Beautiful; 

Or,  yet  again,  in  the  lovelier  Birket-el-Korn, 

Queen  city  of  ancient  pride  in  Faycum  land, — 

For  flocks  and  herds  renowned,  and  golden  palms. 
Yea!  Here  now  comes  a youth  whose  brow  is 
wreathed 

With  blossoms  fragrant  born  by  classic  streams. 

Lo!  Robed  is  he  with  cloth  from  Phirgia’s  looms: 
The  script  of  Fore-States  pictured  in  the  warp; 

The  rose-bloom  and  the  lilly  on  his  cheek, 

And  on  his  brow  a wreath  of  asphodel. 

So  is  he  prescienced  of  Parnassus’  wing, 

He  seems  the  climax  to  a poet’s  dream; 

So  is  his  language  jeweled  of  word-flowers, 

A lyric  blooms  upon  each  syllable. 

His  form  were  symmetry — the  Paphian  Boy 
Was  never  more  persuaved  of  of  lip  and  eye. 

Love’s  dancing  children  blithely  follow  him 
Down  the  warm  length  of  aisles  of  saphrined  gold, 

On  down  through  deeps  of  blooming  borderland; 
By  sylvan  ways  and  paths,  by  pool  and  dell; 

To  finally  lift  into  night’s  vibrant  hills 
Where  gleaming  naiffls  bathe  in  emerald  waters, 

Or  coy  the  night-flower’s  marvelous  tenderTIoomings, 
Where  flames  the  spirit  lilly  under  the  young  moon. 

Thus  went  he  down  down  into  Willamette’s  vales: 
And  touching  there  his  oaten  straw  he  played, 


WHERE  LIE  THE  OREGONS 


3 


Harmoniously  sweet,  an  artist’s  picture  song; 
Descriptive  in  pearl-islanded  amethto  seas^-^  e \ 
And  colored  mi^ts  high  bannered  on  soft  shores,  ’ 
And  olden  woods,  deep,  dense  of  rougous  trees: 
Articulate  with  some  strange  note  of  power; 

Confused,  yet  many-toned  with  import  wild; 

Through  which  is  heard  the  fore-voice  of  the  earth, 
And  presences  which  lived  when  earth  was  young. 
The  distant  calling  of  lean  moaning  winds 
Thro  branches  that  are  bent  with  weight  of  years. 
The  lucid  melody  and  capricious  slips 
Of  some  lone  piper  on  his  greenish  rock. 

The  voice  of  leaping  maenads  in  tangled  wood, 

And  the  silvery  call  of  Limnanthis,  heard  afar. 

The  sound  of  wood-god’s  tread  upon  the  mold 
Where  single  sun-shafts  cut  thro  parted  boughs. 

The  color-music  of  dilicious  fragrances; 

The  perfume  sweet  of  night’s  wet  violets, 

As  delicious  as  the  airs  of  Parthenope, 

As  delicate  as  the  immagmed  scent  of  Sahara’s 
bloom! 


Still  further  the  theme  was  his: 
Where  lie  the  Oregons  Multnomah’s  fiefs 
Once  yielded  tribute  to  tfcg  that  ^tern-browed  king 
Who  rode  with  iron  rein  his  steed  of  state, 

Thus  ordered  on  portentious  tribal  hates 
JnvidJous,  gathering  to  his  own  undoing 
When  arose  revolt  recruiting  on  dismay 


4 


WHERE  LIE  THE  OR  EGO  NS 


Of  Hood’s  red  thunder  and  the  fever  camps: 

When  fell  the  Bridge  of  the  Gods — when  shook  the 


With  tremors  rude,  chaotic,  fearful,  dire, 

Till  slept  Wallula  cold  by  Wauna’s  flood. 
Here  lie  the  virgin  deeps  of  western  woods: 
The  Clajsop  by  the  ever  restless  sea, 

The  Clackmas  for  streams  and  herds  renowned, 

a-**” 

The  Y amhill  rich  in  all  its  ancient  molds, 

The  Tillamook  of  countless  savage  years, 

And,  other  se&ions  flung  in  boundary  chain; 
Encompassing  afar  unconquered  leagues 
Of  mountain  rampart  and  of  fertile  plain, 

Thro  which  flow  life’s  rich  summer  memories: 
Primordial  atmospheres  and  wild-wood  scents, 
That  with  a distinctive  subtle  fevor  move 
Thro  mysterious  distances  of  copse  and  fern, 
And  clinging  vine  and  varient  wild  carresses; 
When  steals  /Eolus  down  thro  the  spirit-wold, 
PaSt  bell-toned  nooks  of  fairy-haunted  dells, 

To  fling  its  odor- wreaths  on  berg  and  town! 


earth] 


Also  is  heard: 

The  plaintive  music  of  some  lilting  bird, 

The  long  deep  sighing  of  the  worship-trees, 

The  echo-music  of  some  perished  race, 

The  straying  trill-lill  of  some  satyr’s  reed; 

Or,  the  mirthful  laughter  of  some  wanton  brook 
Which  wanders  on  thro  lands  midst  length  of  days, 


WHERE  LIE  THE  OREGONS 


5 


Thro  night  and  noon  with  fleecy  cloud,  and  sun; 

To  disappear  beneath  some  splendor  arch 
Of  rock,  or  spreading  tree  of  fragrant  bloom, 
Flowered  white  and  starry  in  a clustered  pride. 

The  song-tears  of  the  sweet-voiced  night-en-gale 
Flow  thro  the  evening’s  mellow  hush  and  haze. 

The  gem-like  bells  of  minature  bloom  is  seen 
Where  alternates  the  poppie’s  crimson  foam. 

Soft,  delicately  white  and  golden  floweretts  flood 
The  leaning  landscape  down  to  throbbing  seas. 

The  golden-rod  sways  with  the  hum-bird’s  weight, 
The  swamp-rose  and  the  prim-rose  give  their  cheer. 
Where  peppermints  send  forth  their  wondrous  breath, 
The  dog-flower  shines  above  the  winter  fern. 
Exquisitely  pastoral  are  these  lake-land  leagues, 
Bloom-margined  and  bloom-centered  in  the  sun. 
Delicate  is  the  exquisite  flora  of  this  clime: 

The  uttered  perfume  of  the  wood  and  plain. 

Sweet  western  land  of  wonderful  promise  this, 

Where  rivers  woon  to  sleep  Cascadean  hills, 

When  broods,  Algerian-like,  Wallowa’s  nights 
O’er  rugged  steeps  and  many  a valley’s  rim 
Which  lift  and  melt  into  Lunars  orange  light.  [wing,] 
Where  the  wild  fowl  shakes  the  dew  from  morning 
Takes  westward  course  o’er  Umatilla’s  fields, — 
Aglint  with  golden  suns  on  seas  of  grain — 

Her  guiding  view  Mt.  Hood  and  the  Yakimas; 

With  tireless  pinion  fans  Tacoma’s  brow: 


6 


WHERE  LIE  THE  OREGONS 


Thro  fragrant  misls  of  falling  rainbow  tints 

On  urgent  flying  ever,  seeking  goal 

Where  spread  the  noble  pastures  of  the  sound. 

Or  yet  again  it  speeds  on  phosphorent  wing 
Southwest  to  where  the  crater’s  haunted  floods 
Droon  round  the  rocksjwhen  morning  comes  with  sun; 
When  Liao  Rock  seems  but  ferment  and  fire: 

When  Pahtom  Ship  sets  sail  for  unknown  seas. 

There,  where  red  Lias  sport  in  Craters  deeps, 

Where  the  Caldron  Witch  performs  her  wizard  art 
When  night  is  under  cloud  in  Klamath’s  woods, 
There,  wild  DesChutes,  impelled  from  raucous 
steeps, 

Leaps  thunderous  from  the  cave  of  Thielsen’s  god 
And  pounds  its  course  from  Klamath  down  thro 
Crook, 

Past  Snowy  Butte  and  Multon  Mountain  pass: 

Thro  many  a plain  where  graze  unbitted  steeds, 
(Limbed  racers  of  the  whirlwind  and  the  storm) 

Past  Sherman  and  past  W asco’s  allurative  farms 
To  rude  debauch  its  flood  on  Columbia’s  foam. 

Its  thunder  booming  mkLt  the  echo-peaks 
Which  one  time  answered  back  the  Indian’s  song: 
The  jocund  half-verse  sung  at  pagan  feasts, 

Or  the  mournful  drooning  of  a funeral  dirge 
When  wept  wild  mothers  for  their  war  slam  son; 
When  flame-red  war-forms  leaped  forth  like  fire-steed 
Thro  bannered  atmospheres  on  templed  hills. 


WHERE  LIE  THE  OREGONS 


7 


Earth’s  wild  sweet  breath  comes  up  from  Harney’s 
fields, 

And  from  Malheur  where  slide  unspindled  streams 
And  rivers  worthily  waiting  on  such  time 
As  shall  mature  an  empire  promise  here; 

From  Grant  where  hover  mists  o’er  fossil  keeps; 
Where  record-earth  discovers  unto  men 
(The  Sage  and  the  Great)  events  in  terror’s  shroud 
Upbearing  huge  bone-forms  in  garb  of  clay; 
Representative  of  a million  process  years 
Which  darken  back  beyond  the  speech  of  men: 

The  vision  and  the  fact  of  chemistries 
Knit  with  storm-conflicts  thro  red  primal  days 
On  plains  by  torrid  seas^  by  steaming  shores. 

Well  heeled  is  mamTewirrd  these  unploughed  leagues 
Of  virgin  empire,  having  catholicty  here 
To  zeSt  the  will,  and  vigor  up  the  brain, 

Of  nation  builders  who  keep  tryst  with  truth, 

Where  now  by  Portland  and  by  Salem  sounds 
The  beating  hoofs  of  progress,  and,  the  chime 
Of  knowledge  bells  in  accademic  halls; 

Where  Steady  shines  the  light  o{  art  and  law, 

And  literature,  and,  all  may  ^eem  best 
Right  noble  vesture  for  high  venturiug  men. 

Except  the  wild  tale  of  the  frontier  days, 

And  the  crowding  on  of  tribes  toward  heated  noons 
Of  haughty  Strife  with  dirge  of  battle  death, — 

When  savage  cities  pass  to  dusk  and  night; 


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8 WHERE  LIE  THE  OREGONS 


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There  is  not  here  a legendary  past 
To  tint  one’s  motif  or  give  art-sense  room 
Upon  what  canvas  wails  the  artist  king. 

But  who  would  care  for  higher  theme  and  scene.  \ 
Where  wind  twelve  rivers,  in  perenial  flood,  s 
Past  odered  meads  and  fields  of  whispering  grain;  ^ 
Past  lands  where  graze  contented  herds,  on  hoof  ^ 
Down  toward  cool  waters  where  the  cresses  bloom!  ~ 
The  rugged  grander  of  our  cloud-topped  hills, 


Our  lakes  and  rivers,  and,  our  opaline  seas 
Rude  breaking  on  our  empire’s  iron  coast; 

All  beckon  with  appealing  hand  to  men 
Whose  genius  ought  to  master  what  stands  forth. 

A morning’s  climb  on  Cascade’s  slopes  and  margins 
Is  like  a page  from  out  some  master’s  music: 

Or  like  a vision  taking  shape  and  form 
Above  the  circles  of  an  adept’s  wand: 

More  beautiful  than  Korrizan’s  mirage 
Zoned  high  above  the  hills  by  Leman’s  sea,  ^ 

Where  fancy  blossoms  by  the  side  of  dream,  ,, 

Where  star-flowers  burst  their  buds  on  vetvely  swards; 
Where  wind-flowers  free  their  odors — when  sets  the  ^ 
Behind  some  mountain  burnished  red  and  gold,  [sun] 


n 

it 


For  the  breezes  here  blow  softly  thro  green  boughs, 
And  stir  the  sleep-begetting  minstrel  pines. 

Here,  hidden  plenteus  in  the  graded  oak, 


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WHERE  LIE  THE  OREGONS 


11 


Rude  uttered  back  with  pagan  quip  and  scene. 

1 In  (orest  field  not  far  from  soft  Wahana 
ThelarkT  are  wont  to  chorus  Easter  daysT^ 

f As  if  1o  reprove  theThush  of  wmter^woods: Ls 

Anon  is  beard  an  hundred  air-swi^g  notes  / [way] 
When  the  wild-geese — migrant — wend  their  arrowy 
O’er  pristine  peaks,  by  lines  of  sea-washed  sand; 
Above  the  slopes  where  Cullaby  Lake  is  gemed: 

And  keep  their  course  toward  Alaskan  swamps 
Whence  flow  the  streams  with  golden  silts  to  floods 
That  wash  bright  sands  on  Nome’s  adventurous  shores  - 


VL 


A homeward  ride  through  sunset  by  the  Coos 
Is  like  a journey  throught  some  story-land. 

Here  daffodils  and  daisies  flutter  where 
The  wind-voice  steals  up  from  the  timbrous  waves. 
The  twilight  grieving  of  the  tree-couched  birds, 
Breeze-swung  where  flows  a never  failing  brook, 
Comes  to  us  out  of  story-enchanted  woods; 

The  deathless  sky  bends  down  to  deathless  earth. 
No  immelodius  being  here  abides 
To  dull  the  lengthening  days  of  summer  cheer. 
Where  the  heart  of  the  buttercup  beats  golden-pure, 
The  voice  of  the  willow  dells  is  heard  and  loved. 
The  dreamy  fawn  and  purple  of  woodland  ways 
Surrounds  as  we  pass  through  sylven  shades. 

What  endless  aisles — what  altitudes  are  here! 

What  fluent  opulency  of  limbrient  ocean: 

Our  summits  glow  against  cerulean  arches! 


LIBRARY  

UNIVERSITY  Or  liriwn?* 


12 


WHERE  LIE  THE  OREGON 5 


Heaven’s  filmy  blue  is  flushed  with  idyllic  joy. 

The  olive  dips  lie  leaning  on  the  landscape. 

Deep  is  the  imperishable  charm  of  field  and  fell: 

Here  lies  a field  in  mauve  (like  Sicily’s  views), 

A worthy  subject  for  our  Douglas  Crane; 

Here  flows  a stream  past  opalescent  rocks, 

Bid  Parrot’s  brush  give  spirit  to  this  view! 

A mist  hangs  sun-rayed  o’er  wild  Tillamook: 

Far  amethyst  oceans  break  on  ruby  shores. 

A rainbow  widely  spans  the  hoary  drifts 
Of  mountain  ranges  ringed  with  color-wreaths. 
Rogue’s  apple-bloom  and  Roseburg’s  peach  and 
Commingle  odors  where  the  mountains  meet,  [plum] 
The  golden  warp  of  a land’s  strength  lieth  here: 

The  muscle-fibre,  too,  of  a masterful  race. 

No  Moeris  here  lies  sad  with  dreary  shores, 

O’er  which  the  vultures  float  on  carrion  quest. 

The  hills  of  Cos  were  not  more  softly  splendrous. 

Nor  the  Carion  shores  more  lovely  in  their  setting 
Of  varient  gem-hues, — scintilent  mellow — 

Than  hill  and  shore  by  Salem  and  by  sea-rim. 

Yon  stands  Eugene:  university  cultured  city 
Which  waters  well  her  garden  academic/ 

And  p tends  with  care  the  bud  and  ethic  bloom 
Best  circumstanced  upon  her  lawns  to  thrive. 

More  to  the  south  Grants  Pass,  with  merchant  pride 


WHERE  LIE  THE  OREGONS 


n 


Proclaims  herself  Queen  City  of  Josephine; 

And  girds  her  loins  with  leathern  belt  on  which 
Is  pictured  forth  her  traffic  interests. 

Where  the  Siskiyous  lie  calm  in  the  evening  light 
The  Vale  of  Tempe  yon  by  Ashland  lies. 

This  place  of  mountain  scenery  hath  renown: 

The  Sakkara  pyramid  lifts  its  pink  cone  where 
The  pale  mists  veil  the  brow  of  Pilate  Rock. 
Athenian  airs  here  stir  the  syringia  bloom. 

Where  glows  a hill-top  stands  the  Parthenon: 
Thessalian  hills  lie  yonder  in  the  gloaming. 

One  might  imagine:  There,  too,  lies  Lycabettus 
With  the  sadden  gray  of  Hymettus  just  beyond. 

Or,  there  lies  ”Cyllene”  Hoar  the  Wizzard’s  place, 
Fit  circumstance  for  Inspiration’s  pen. 

The  fl young  philosophers”  of  the  garden  may  here 
And  also  doth  her  environs  accredit  her  [abide.] 
Her  music-mood,  and  all  which  appertains 
Her  color-sense:  deserving  our  adjectives 
Miss  Russell’s  worthy  brush— her  11  Forest  Fire,”  — 
The  actual  flame  devouring  primal  woods! 

E’en  here  is  Phithia,  for  luscious  fruits  renowned, 
And,  healing  waters  such  as  Lourdres  hath; 

And,  mountain  torrents  born  of  summit  snows; 

And,  halls  of  learning  wisely  inventoried, — 

With  wreaths  of  culture  forming  on  her  stem: 

The  Muses  live  where  births  her  mountain  flood 


14 


WHERE  LIE  THE  OREGONS 


Midst  vernal  slopes  and  vocal  hidden  nooks, 
Whence  it  flows  to  debauch  into  the  Val. 

<^j) 


But  this — what  land  is  this  whose  gathered  rills 
Commingle  waters  with  a majestic  stream? 

What  land  is  this  where  suns  prevail  their  warmth 
On  bursting  bud  and  bloom  and  ripening  fruits, 

And  lengthening  landscape  vistas  purple-ringed 
As  minstral  summits  by  Australian  gulfs. 

This  is  that  land  of  orchards,  flocks  and  herds 
The  "Fathers"  saw  when  Whitman  blazed  a trail 
Up  through  the  tangled  mystery  of  barban  woods, 
Where  crouched  the  leopard  in  his  eirie  tree 
When  rude  the  Indian  wild  passed  on  his  way 
To  Wizzard’s  haunt  or  red-caved  Lava  Beds. 

Or,  on  again  toward  Dawn’s  horizon  bold 
Where  many  rivers  merge  their  untamed  floods 
Which  catch  and  hold,  when  summer  is  in  leaf, 

The  morning’s  blush,  and,  the  rarely  prismed  shafts 
Of  pink-light  woven  through  the  slumber  moons 
Whose  radience  floods  the  land  from  berg  and  townj 
O’er  valleys  wide  and  plain  in  fragrance  bathed^ 

T o fall  in  fullness  on  the  west  shore  bays. 

This  is  that  land  where  plains  and  wildwood  haunt. 
And  glowing  mountain  peak,  and  vocal  dell, 

And  voiceful  minature  fall,  and  laughing  rill, 

Lean  flowery-robed  down  to  Rogue  River’s  flood. 
Where  Rogue  Land’s  hills  are  ringed  of  color-mists, 


WHERE  LIE  THE  OREGONS 


15 


There  dawn  and  dusk-lights  fall  on  field  and  fern, 
And  mead  and  orchard  wealth,  by  Medford  town  ♦ 
Whose  destiny  now  gathers  to  the  point 
Of  greatness  hinging  on  her  plussing  strength^ 

And  also  on  that  determinative  (will) 

Without  which  all  things  must  fall  broken  down. 

Yet  where- with-all  can  failure  her  attend 
Whose  efforts  link  her  resource  with  her  zeal. 

Here  the  wealth  of  Orm  depends  from  orchard  boughs, 
Here  the  comice  pear  finds  fit  congenial  clime; 

Here  the  berry  ripens  luscious  to  the  lip, 

Here  the  melon  crimsons  in  the  summer  noons; 

While  everywhere  is  seen  the  purple  grape 
Rich  blooded  as  the  fruit  of  Chios’  vine. 

©©©©©©©©© 

The  bird  imaginatation  again  swings  northward: 

The  lightnings  aid  her  wings  o’er  winding  rivers. 

In  penciled  marine  shadows  Portland  now, 

(Rich  Queen  Rose  City  stately  by  the  Wauna)! 
Appears  in  splendor  garments  thro’  the  dawn-light* 
When  Daphne^like  a mist^ floats  thro  the  forest. 

Her  destiny  the  mountain  gods  are  guarding: 

Nor  Ariadnean  Noxos  was  more  dreamy, 

Nor  Milete  greater  of  a sculpture  promise, 

Nor  Ormus  more  polite  in  trade  or  learning. 

Near  by,  sprung  on  the  land  is  Pherne  and  Orthus. 
Admetus  beckons  us  down  to  his  open  lattice, 

Apollo  ^tending  flocks  on  Multnomah’s  swards 


WHERE  LIE  THE  OREGONS 


16 


Pipes  softly  now  on  oaten  straw  low  music. 

The  pendulum  of  day  swings  into  the  west, 

The  breathing  sea  coys  with  the  opal  rocks. 

The  shadows  deepen  on  Philomath’s  hills, 

The  wolf  slys  down  from  caves  in  the  flanking  woods. 
The  wood-deer,  famished,  seeks  Nehalam’s  springs, 
The  panther  crouches  leer  on  some  lone  rock. 
Imagination  fashions  on  the  hour  a temple’s  dome: 
There  stands  proud  Agra’s  peerless  Taj-Mahal; 

And  there:  Larissa’s  towers  and  minarets, 

Wrapped  in  the  golden  light  of  India’s  night. 

There  looms  Cambalac’s  red  avenue  of  statues, 

Or  there  is  Hur  with  ancient  dome  and  spire. 

Y on  toward  the  sea  is  Ossa  and  Olympus: 

Fit  shrines  where  to  repair  our  common  faith. 
Homeric  Hellas  bounds  our  straining  view. 

Behold  the  fragrant  vales  where  Hafiz  dream’d. 

Here  too  might  Theocritius  chant  his  songs 
To  the  tremulous  evening  soul  in  wood  and  wold. 
Some  Corydon  or  Luicidas  leaves  his  flocks 
To  lend  his  pipe’s  refrain  to  Circe's  notes. 

Through  vale  and  dell  and  grove  of  lutent  tree; 
Where  feathered  songsters  flutter  midst  the  light 
Of  aureoled  leaf  and  arches  sun-  suffused, 

A silver  note,  like  some  fond  joy  astray 
Down  leagues  of  meadow  land  and  leafy  wild, 

Doth  softly  tinkle  by  some  minature  fall 


WHERE  LIE  THE  OREGONS 


17 


Or,  muflled  lowly  when  the  wood-gods  pass, 
Seems  but  the  sob-tones  of  an  astral  bell 
When  waning  day,  reluctant,  rests  his  wing 
On  Hood’s  bold  summit  of  rose-tint  and  fire: 
The  violet  sea  of  Sunium,  when  spring  is  young, 
Is  not  more  lovely  than  our  leagued  lakes! 


The  Oregons  shore  on  the  Western  Sea: 
Exquisitely  beautiful  the  landscapes  are. 

The  haze  of  evening  merges  color-schemes: 
Imperial  colors  crowd  the  empyrean. 

Aurora’s  maid^yyith  flute  and  castenet,  ^ 

Steal  rosy-limbed  thro  Flora’s  gaiVtured  vale& 
Delicious  variances  of  color  harg 
Abroad  upon  the  hills  of  sea  and  land. 

Rude,  bungle-voiced,  proportioned  forests  rool 
Their  anthems  down  upon  the  sky-hung  waves. 
The  appreciation  of  variant  distinctiveness 
Gives  to  the  hour  a creeping  sense  of  fear, 

Such  as  belonged  to  the  woods  when  savage  men 
Contended  with  the  cat  for  empire  here. 

The  Oregons  are  ripe  inheritances: 

Be  strong — her  sons — to  reap  her  yellow  grains. 
No  mountain  son  was  ever  yet  a slave: 

An  empire  bursts  to  bloom  by  Wauna’s  flood. 
Spoked  to  the  hub  of  Medford’s  traffic-wheel 
Is  golden  wealth,  and,  opportunity. 

The  wheels  of  commerce  turnTvhere  waters  meet: 
From  Portland’s  wharfs  great  ships  go  down  to  sea! 


30 


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